


the last love you'll ever be able to give

by EternalInfinitesimal



Series: 3am brain goes brrr fluff/angst time ahaha [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Dancing, Fluff, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Kinda, M/M, Magic, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Sacrifice, Self-Sacrifice, Strangers to Lovers, War, but he was stopped so dw, should I make a series of one shots?, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29079489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalInfinitesimal/pseuds/EternalInfinitesimal
Summary: An army had been raised from stragglers and fighters defending their small towns from raiders, but soon grew into something much more. Victory came after victory and the two created a reputation of their own. Known for their tactical brilliance and unrivaled strength on the field, Karl and George created an army of loyal fighters that traveled to protect villages like their own.This was the last battle: the fight to end this war, but they were worn out and running low on food and supplies.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Hinted, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Series: 3am brain goes brrr fluff/angst time ahaha [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204661
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	the last love you'll ever be able to give

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [parted, and never parted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669527) by [Authoress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress). 



When George and Karl were kids, it was a mere fantasy at first. They had been warned about the forest surrounding the west side of their small village. They had been told stories of the looming magic that lurked deep in its branches, dragging the unsuspecting into its grasp forever. Once it had caught its prey, it was said to never let them go until they had either their sanity ripped gently; slowly from their minds or the energy had overwhelmed them and they had killed themselves in a panicked frenzy. Sometimes it was on accident, most of the time it was on purpose.

At least, that's what they had been told. And maybe, if that was the case, they shouldn't have been blamed for going into the forest in the first place when they had been told it was an all alluring being. It had called out to the children gently, not more than mere unsatiated curiosity in the back of their minds. 

It was wonderful at first, and maybe it was meant to be. Meant to be beautiful and alluring to ease any lingering sense of insecurity holding them back. It wasn’t much, for they were young and unknowing, so they followed the glowing red-orange wisps illuminated in the canopy of dark oak trees with not so much as a glance back the way they came. 

The wisps were patient as well, for they learned patience and yearning yield greater results. The wisps watched as the children discovered the wild plants that decorated the forest walls. Massive blooming flowers hung from trees and the wisps waited as Karl excitedly- uselessly- described the vibrant colors to George. Strange geometric herbs painted the forest floor, and it was George's turn to rant about the various purposes and properties to Karl. They marveled at what little skitters of strange small animals they saw pass them through the brush.

Perhaps the forest knew their own audience. They knew that greater beasts only attracted those who felt the need to protect or prove their worth. They knew the children would be frightened of such beasts. Or maybe they learned long ago that children don’t last long against gnarly twisted nightmares and only false bravery and fear led others along with them. With fear came vengeance and rage and fire. Perhaps the only thing the forest gained from fire was the many red eyes of the deceased now guiding lost ones in the wrong direction. The stones were the only marking path to tell. 

But as long as they always returned to the scarlet flickering wisps when called, the journey continued. The children seemed to have limitless excitement over the forest, and with jumping curiosity began to chase the wisps loyally into the forest. 

The giggles of the children echoed throughout the forest followed by the equally excited chirps and trills of the surroundings, both calling that they were closer to their goal. 

With a sudden trip and a newly scraped knee, they found themselves at the foot of a beautiful abandoned wooden shrine. It was barely taller than the boys, and the scraped knee was forgotten in wonder of the decaying structure in front of them. 

It was covered in vines and blooming ivy, made supposedly of the same dark wood that surrounded them. It was once painted, now it was indistinguishable colors washed away by centuries of wildlife and weather. 

The boys were enthralled, and blissfully ignorant. The forest fed them new stories about the god whose shrine it belonged to. Karl and George always had different visions of who the gods were. George saw a god who was brilliant and tactical laced with a fierce determination in everything he did. Karl saw chaos, unrivaled charisma, and bright passion with every choice. The wisps told tales of battlefields, fire, war, friendship, and death above all. The stories told about their gods were everything to the children. 

For once, the forest was content to let them go with the absolute reassurance that they could not stay away for long. They carried a part of the forest in them now, for fairytales can go much further than words and visions if only you believe in them enough. 

Where George and Karl were once outcasts from the other children of their hometown, they found themselves the next day becoming more. During fight training, they found themselves being able to wield a sword and axe with comfort they had never felt before. George no longer looked to a future of failed remedies and daily reminders of his colorblindness. Karl no longer saw a future of messy kitchens and burnt pastries. 

Instead, the boys thrived together, sharpening their battle senses and curating their newfound skills. When they needed to, they snuck back into the forest and although the path was constantly changing it would always guide them back to the same shrine. 

Stories quickly turned into history, and Karl would bring his mother's freshly baked goods to lay across the shrine while George did his part to upkeep the previously decayed structure. They believed the gods had given them the gift of skill in battle, and for that, they wholeheartedly believed. 

Many, many years later, this belief became their very last hope. It had been their last hope once before: in another time when it meant something else; something less dangerous. 

An army had been raised from stragglers and fighters defending their small towns from raiders, but soon grew into something much more. Victory came after victory and the two created a reputation of their own. Known for their tactical brilliance and unrivaled strength on the field, Karl and George created an army of loyal fighters that traveled to protect villages like their own. 

This was the last battle: the fight to end this war, but they were worn out and running low on food and supplies. 

“George… “

“How bad is it?” Looking up from his oat mush, George met the eyes of his second in command. 

“Our rations will last through tonight, but not much longer. This has to be the last fight, George. If we don’t beat Wilbur’s army tomorrow, we lose every-”

“You don’t think I know that, Karl?” George snapped, “You don’t think we will win this? Our gods have never let us down, yet you doubt them when we need them the most?”

Karl’s expression hardened as he glared, “Of course not, but we can’t rely on them for everything. Our soldiers can’t believe in them as we do. They trust us only because they’ve seen us win impossible battles,”

“This is more an impossible battle than any we’ve ever faced,” George was right, and Karl knew that too. They would need all the help they could get. 

George sighed, “What do we have to spare?”

“To give to the gods? You can’t be serious, we-”

“I’m serious.”

Karl huffed in disbelief, “Okay, well, the clothes off their back, portions of their dinner-”

“That’s… not what I meant,” 

“Then what? You want them to give up their wedding bands? You want them to just hand over the jewelry their children made for them? You’re going to take away the only things they have left of their family?”

“N-no, but we need-”

“We have nothing left we can spare. Seriously:  _ nothing _ this time George. This is it. We’ve come this far. If we go down, we go down fighting the battle of a lifetime,”

“Okay.” He turned back to his mush. Karl cautiously came to sit next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder, unsure.

“Just… okay?”

He met Karl’s eyes, and not because he believed him, but because George knew there was one last thing he had left to give, so he agreed, “Let’s end this,”

Karl smiled, “Let's end this.”

George was certain that as he left to his own tent for the night, that was the last time he would ever see that smile. George hoped he didn’t miss him too much, Karl was like a brother to him. Somehow, Karl looked up to him, too, even though George knew he was just as capable if not more. George’s army also looked up to him to guide them to victory. So, he was determined to do so the only way he knew how. 

Late that night, when he was sure everyone was deep in sleep for the battle, he grabbed a dagger and snuck deeper into the woods they had taken refuge in. It took him a while, but he gathered enough dry wood to start a reasonably large fire.

Finally, he dropped to his knees in front of the blooming fire. 

“This is it… You’ve done so much for me, and you’ve been gracious to help us through many battles. This is the last one. I have nothing left to give you: no gold, no food, no armor or weapons. I have only my life, and I hope that is enough.

“All I ask is that you let our soldiers be able to see their families again. Let this be the last battle and let there be no more raiding or pillaging. I would give my life to them in battle but that would not be much use as this. Please save them.”

George took a deep breath and raised the knife to his throat. He gently let his eyes close as the blade pressed further and-

“GEORGE STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” George whipped his head around in frustration to see Karl rushing forward before taking the knife from him. 

“You don’t understand! Let me do this Karl, this is all we have left!”

Karl was infuriated, “What? You’re going to kill yourself for a god we made up when we were eight? It’s always just been you, George!”

“What are you talking about… how can you not believe in them? You’ve seen what they’ve done for us!”

“You fought those battles, not them! You won those wars! You-” Karl's eyes went wide as something in the fire grew behind George.

“How could I have don-”

“Shh! Shut up!”

“Don’t shush me! Wh-” He was cut off by Karl's hand covering his mouth and he froze at the sound of a chuckle behind him.

Once again, he spun just in time to see the tall, flickering figures step out of the fire, unfazed by its heat. One of them seemed to pull the fire with him, wrapping around his hands and greeting him as an old friend. The other seemed to have a white-yellow glow of his own that emanated without the help of the fire. 

They were awestruck, but something about them never seemed to focus. He couldn't determine any features it was like they were… blurry?

“Who… are you? Why are you all blurry?” 

“Wow Georgie, can’t even recognize your own God?” The golden glowing one smiled down at him as the other seemed to be fighting a laugh once again.

“I-I’m sorry, forgive me-”

“No, I’m kidding, I… I’m Dream. This is Sapnap, You… You really don't recognize us?” George shook his head, even further confused. Dream reached out a phasing hand, “Here, please stand up. You’re both our equals. It offends me that you would think I would ever want your life.”

“Dream! You dumbass you can’t just say shit like that!” The other finally spoke up, but the blurring and phasing had stopped. A boy that looked to be around their age with black hair and a white bandana tied around his head was helping Karl up. He looked… strangely human? 

“You’re supposed to be brilliant and you still look confused. I’m taking Karl somewhere else to explain. You two lovebirds get your crap sorted out here I politely want no part in it,”

“Oh, yeah like you can talk Sappitus,” George still sat staring, confused, and entranced until Sapnap and Karl had gone out of sight. Dream let out a sigh and instead of offering a hand to George again, he took a seat next to him on the forest floor. 

A quick blink and a dirty blond-haired boy with a shy smile and a creepy white smiling mask replaced the glowing figure. 

George seemed to regain his breath as he spoke again, “So… there’s nothing I can give you? Nothing you want, we're done?”

“Done? No, far from it actually. George, you’ve never had to give me anything. I was always your god, but in a different way than for those who simply believed in me through you. You are everything to me, you must know that,”

George’s face flushed as he scoffed and turned away, “How can  _ I _ be everything to you? That's ridiculous. I am mortal and you’re a god, I should mean nothing to you. I… think I understand why you won't take my sacrifice,”

Dream gently raised a hand to George’s still flushed cheeks and guided his eyes back to meet his own. George couldn’t help but lean shyly into his touch, “You’re everything to me because I wouldn’t be who I am now without you. I may be a god, but you  _ raised _ a god. That is so much more powerful than I could ever be. Did you ever think about who those gravestones belonged to before you and Karl found them?”

“I… of course we did. We thought they were shrines and you were some powerful gods already. We were just following the wisps guide.”

“The wisps? What wisps?”

“The little brown-ish bright colored lights that we followed to find you?”

“That explains why you don’t recognize me then, “ He let his hand fall and rest on his leg. George slowly rested his hand on top of his, before quickly attempting to pull away after realizing what he was doing. He didn't get very far before Dream reached out and held his hand in place between them, offering a reassuring smile. A light dusting of pink cheeks was hidden in the low-lit fire once more. 

“Sapnap and I were just like you. A long time ago, the forest had lured us in, and we became gravestones, just like everyone who enters that forest does. Or, well, that's what we thought before you at least. The forest was less kind to us.

“But you changed everything, you believed the stories we told you and they became true every time you believed in them again. You and Karl made gods out of two lost ghost boys in the woods.”

“...oh,”

Another light chuckle, “Yeah,  _ oh. _ ” There was a small bout of comfortable silence, and then, almost whispered, “You know, it’s strange. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. I’ve fought by your side in every battle,”

“Every battle?”

“Every battle since the beginning. I was so ready to be angry at you for trying to give your life to me in the exact opposite way I wanted it. Except, I realized It’s kind of funny, too. You’ve only just now met me and I’ve known you for years,”

“You seem…  _ so _ familiar. I feel like I’ve known you, too. In a different way, a forgotten way,” George leaned to rest his head on Dreams shoulder, “Everything you do, everything you are feels like... home,”

Dream agreed with a breathy “Yeah, like home.” His heart was racing as they sat leaned against each other. 

“What did you mean when you said you wanted my life in the opposite way I tried to give it to you? You… do want my life, then?”

“Ah… um,” Dream was struggling with how to word what he wanted to say. “Not in the way you think I want your life. Its kind of silly now that I know you’re just now meeting me, too.”

“I won’t judge. Besides, like I said I have known you. I feel like I’ve known you forever, like in a… dream,” he chuckled at the implication “It’s as if meeting you has only brought up old memories I didn't know I had,”

“Well… do you still want to give yourself to me, then?”

George's face flushed once more as he lifted his head to meet where Dream’s eyes would have been, “I… yes? It depends what you mean by that.”

“In truth, I came here with the full intention of asking you to marry me,”

George’s breath was sucked out of him as he flushed impossibly darker, “ a-and now?”

“I want to marry you, even more, every time I see you blush like that,” Dream’s palm found its way to rest on heated cheeks. George took the opportunity to hold the hand closer; hide his blushing face.

The silence drew on while a new battle grew within George. A battle he was rapidly losing. He was still uncertain of whether he was worthy of the God before him, and if he was, was he willing to marry someone he couldn't even see the face of?

Dream sensed his predicament, so instead, he stood and simply held out a hand, “Dance with me?”

This time, George took it without hesitation. Dream pulled him up and looped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer. There was no music, but as George wrapped his own arms around Dreams shoulders and began to sway, the crackling of the fire and soft trill of the forest proved to be enough. 

A comfortable thought-filled silence took up the time. Soon, his own racing heart gave him all the answers he needed to know, and the warmth of safety that washed over him as he leaned his head on his lover’s chest was only further affirmation. He had always loved the stories and wisps, the rush of adrenaline, and comfort in battle. Long nights spent strategizing never felt lonely; he used to wonder why. George realized that had loved Dream for a very long time. 

A light smile graced his features. He was never one to give in so easily. “How can I marry you if I don’t know your favorite color?” he teased, keeping his tone as serious as he could muster.

“Green, of course. I’m wearing all green.”

“And how can I marry someone who can’t remember that their fiance is colorblind?” 

George heard Dream wheeze hilariously “Wh- oh come on- Just put on the googles,  _ Gogy- _ ” before the swaying slightly faltered as Dream realized, “wait, fiance?”

Oh, shit. So much for not giving in so easily. 

“A-and, um, how can I marry someone called Dream, that's ridiculous!” He rushed out in a poor attempt at changing the topic, restarting the slow swaying.

Dream hesitantly let it slide, a brighter light now in his eyes. “Well, that's just what the other Gods call me. You can call me Clay, though,”

“Clay?”

“Yeah,” For longer than he cared to remember, only Sap called him clay, he was the only one who knew him before he died. With George, it now felt that much more intimate.

“And, clay…” 

“Yeah?” Dream breathed out. George’s hands slid to press against the sleek edges of the mask in the beginnings of a question.

“How can I marry someone I don’t know what they look like?”

“I’m not sure you’ll want to marry me if you see what I look like,”

“Well, that's just silly, because I still don’t know what you look like, and somehow I’m seriously considering it,”

Dream took a deep breath, before letting go of George’s waist and reaching up to pull the metal clasps apart, and lowering his mask.

George's hands slid up in awe to count light freckles and trace three large scars that sliced through his cheeks and lips. He followed the scars up until his thumb gently rested under Dream’s now closed eye. 

“...How?”

“As I said, the forest wasn't always as forgiving,”

George's eyes finally met pretty hazel eyes. They had a nostalgic sadness to them, and hidden fear.

“Why do such pretty eyes look at me with sadness?” 

“Wh- pretty?” Dream almost laughed, unbelieving.

“You’re really quite breathtaking. Though I wouldn’t expect much less from a literal God,”

“But.. the  _ scars _ Georgie,”

As Dream said that, George decided as long as he was in the man's presence he was cursed to be constantly blushing, so he through all care of composure out, “Excuse my language, but the scars are kind of hot as fuck,”

It was Dream’s turn to “ _ Oh, _ ” before his quickly fueled ego caught up with him and he pulled George closer again, “So is that a yes? You’ll marry me?”

George looked up and bumped forehead lightly against Dream’s, “I suppose so, yes,” 

Hands ran through sandy hair as the promise was made, and smiling lips met in incoordination and excitement. 

George knew then that the battle tomorrow would be one unrivaled. Even in the history books, it would be something of a legend for a very long time. There was no such thing as an impossible fight when your fiance is a god of war, and you the creator. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Not as good as the work it was inspired by, but acceptable. Let me know what you think in the comments <3


End file.
